


Test Drive

by battle_cat



Series: Inappropriate Vehicular Activity [4]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Car Sex, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:37:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/pseuds/battle_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max and Furiosa test-drive the rebuilt Interceptor...sexily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test Drive

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! [Christening](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6020041) has a sequel.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Furiosa says with a twitch of a smile.

They’re on the hard-packed plains just south of the Citadel, Max behind the wheel of the Interceptor and Furiosa in the passenger seat. She has the SKS mounted on the dash (they’re in well-defended territory, but just in case) and a hard bright light in her eyes.

She’s seen him drive—her Rig when their lives depended on it; whatever Citadel vehicle was available when an errand was needed. But she’s never seen him drive _his_ car.

He floors it and sends them tearing down a shallow rise to the flat plains below. Furiosa whoops with delight. When they reach level ground he hits the nitro and she cackles with laughter, metal arm clamped on the frame of the open window as the acceleration presses them into their seats.

The gritty rocks jutting here and there make a ready enough obstacle course, and he takes them swerving between them, the steering easy and responsive and—dare he think it?—maybe even better than before with the resources of the massive Citadel chop shop at his disposal.

When they reach a patch with no rocks he takes them into a long controlled skid, sand pluming through the open windows, Furiosa laughing and then coughing a little and then laughing some more at that.

He stops for a minute to let the dust settle. Her eyes are shining.

“Impressive control,” she says with a smirk, and…when had her flesh hand made it to his thigh? She gives his leg a squeeze when she says, “Do it again,” and, well, he’s not about to back down from a challenge.

He picks a harder patch of rocks this time, tight turns at high speed just to prove he can do it, and he can’t help grinning as he feels her fingers dig into his leg on a sharp curve. 

He’s showing off, he knows it, but it’s _fun_ , dammit. There so rarely seems to be room for this kind of thrill—fun-danger, play-danger—the kick of adrenaline without the grinding terror of an actual threat. Usually you were either safe or an inch away from dying, and no matter how much your endocrine system worked to protect you in those moments, they were never actually fun.

She waits until he’s on the outside of a turn to move her hand to his crotch and give him a long, firm stroke.

The car skids and fishtails just a little. He shoots a glance at her.

“Eyes on the road,” she teases, a mischievous smile on her lips. She gives his cock a squeeze.

Fine. Challenge accepted.

He drives and she strokes and between the roar of the engine and the insistent drag of her hand it takes no time at all for him to get achingly hard, erection straining at the leather of his pants.

There’s a long stretch of flat ochre sand up ahead of them, no rocks at all, and it’d be the perfect place to fang it just to see what the engine can take.

Her fingers are working at his belt, swift and sure, and…she has gotten way too fast at unfastening his pants one-handed, he thinks as her hot palm curls around his dick.

She shifts in her seat and their speed jumps a little bit as he realizes what she’s doing, her flesh hand on his cock and her metal one curled around his thigh and her head ducking down against his lower belly.

“See how long you can keep it in the red,” she says as the flat expanse of desert unfurls before him.

The acceleration is not _quite_ as even as he’d like as her hot mouth slides down around his cock, as her tongue swipes over the head lapping up precome. He should be watching the gauges, he really should, but it’s all he can do to keep his arms steady and his foot from twitching on the clutch and his hips from bucking up as she sucks.

He groans as her tongue spirals and flicks, as her sweaty hand does the work at the base of his cock where her mouth can’t reach, and the roar of the engine can’t quite cover up the filthy slurps as the hot tight circle of her lips moves up and down. She doesn’t do this often, but when she does she _commits_.

He dimly realizes he’s shaking with the effort of keeping still and in control of the machine, sweat dripping down his back, but everything but the wet slide of lips and tongue feels distant. There’s a shallow line of foothills growing nearer and he has a second to wonder if she’ll be able to make him come before he has to brake and spin them around, and then she sucks him in deep enough to bump against the back of her soft palate and he nearly spills right there.

The rhythm of her mouth speeds up and he has no breath for words, but he’s sure she can feel his cock swelling. His hand clutches at her shoulder and she hums her permission and it's not a second too soon; he’s filling up her mouth, feeling her throat working against his thigh as she swallows.

Everything goes white and hot for a second, the desert sun magnified tenfold.

When his vision clears he wraps an arm around her back to hold her steady as he skids them to a stop right at the base of the shallow scratch of hills.

He doesn’t move for a minute, panting, hands still clutched numbly on the wheel, blinking sweat and stars out of his eyes, drunk with a soup of every delicious brain chemical there is. The engine is ticking but it seems perfectly fine, not nearly as overheated as he is.

Furiosa slides out of his lap and leans back idly against the passenger-side door, a self-satisfied look on her face. There’s a little smudge of come in the corner of her mouth. She swipes it off with a thumb and then slides the thumb in her mouth and licks it clean with a pop.

He blinks dizzily at her, stupid overstimulated laughter hitching in his chest.

She pats the dash of the Interceptor, like it did a good job. “Nice performance. For a test drive.”

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon that Furiosa knows how to give a blowjob because War Boys have absolutely no chill about talking loudly and in detail about their favorite techniques.


End file.
